Riga,
Latvia
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Latitude 56˚
57” N
November
23, 2017
I liked
Riga from the moment I arrived. I
stepped out of the airport and the smell of snow was in the air. I was here for early Christmas markets and
the weather was cooperating—cold, clean and crisp. This is what I’d signed up for. I was prepared for the cold and this was
going to be great.
Thanksgiving
morning snow covered the ground—a thin coating of wet white that made my heart
soar. I would have some snow in my time
in the Baltics. But a stiff wind was
blowing and I knew the day would be a challenge. I bundled up and stepped out into the feeble
light of mid- morning into a city that had transformed itself for me. The air was misty and
only got mistier as I got closer to the Old City which is almost directly on
the port. Church steeples were slightly fogged
in which gave them an other-worldly look.
Just as on other days, there were few tourists. I am convinced that this city is best seen in
the long, white nights of summer. On the
other hand, it was nice not to have to deal with hordes of visitors I’ll
experience later on in this trip.
· I
spent my day, as I had spent the previous two days—walking the lovey streets of
Old Riga, into te Quiet Center” with its 650 examples of Art Nouveau
architecture I (more here than in any other city in the world), stopping
mid-day for my daily warm-up-one-hour-white-wine-break. Today’s journey would take along Riga’s canal
that snakes its way for about a mile to its mouth in the Baltic Sea. The day was gray and dark and no tourist boats
were running. My discovery this
Thanksgiving Day was the spectacular Church of the Nativity of Christ Cathedral –
the largest Russian Orthodox church in Riga, which during the Soviet rule
housed a planetarium. Such
sacrilege! I sat in awe of the gold and
silver icons, studied the superb iconography on the walls, and lit a candle in
thanksgiving for all the people I love and who love me. I was also scolded by on the nuns on
duty. I’d been taking photos and didn’t
realize that was prohibited.
I did not want a long day. The night before I’d been to an organ recital
at the Riga Cathedral and wanted an early evening in. I made a decision to return to my apartment. It was only 3:30 on this late
November afternoon, but the Nordic night was beginning to set in. The air was cold and the wind blowing off the
Baltic had winter in it. It was time to
return home, to my solitary Thanksgiving and an evening of reflection.
I cut
through the central square of Old Town Riga to get one last look at the large,
wooden Scandinavian Christmas tree that had been set up for the holidays. Smaller, green Christmas trees surrounded
tonight and almost all of the Christmas stalls had opened. The night had turned colder still. Shivering pedestrians trundled by me quickly
as I sped to my apartment.
‘
At day’s
end, I thought back to other Thanksgivings—all those blessed holidays when my
parents were still alive. It’s so easy
to miss them more at times like this.
But other Thanksgiving resonate, too.
Two years ago in Prague; five years in Chitwan National Park and
Thanksgiving with the elephants in Nepal.
Twice in Mexico.
But this
year it was to our beloved small creature, Bob, that I thought of the
most. Dead a year on Thanksgiving
afternoon. Why is that this small gentle
animal, who filled our home and our lives should still cause hurt a year later?
I went to
bed with a silent breath of thanks for a glorious day, a glorious life and a
life full of beautiful Thanksgivings.
I am a
blessed man.
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